DIVE!!

Book 3 Chapter 10 - Champion Tomoki

November 28, 1:30 P.M. In the northern part of Kanagawa prefecture, a huge crowd of people hailing from many different regions gathered at the “Sagamihara Green Pool,” located on the Sagamihara Plateau.

The verdant green Yokoyama Park housed a tennis court, baseball field, a track-and-field stadium, and other facilities. The pool was situated in that part, built in 1998 for the National Athletic Meet in Kanagawa, and had a huge dome-shape exterior as well as a white and grey, modern-looking interior. At a glance, it still looked young.

On the contrary, the age groups of the spectators who filled the stands on this day were older, enshrouded in a banqueting mood that was closer to cherry-blossom viewing rather than watching sports. They were people cheering on the “Underwater Walking Championship・National Seniors’ Competition” going on at the main pool.

Meanwhile, the stands for the men’s high diving finals of the Sino-Japanese Diving Competition at the diving pool were as empty and desolate as ever. The top two Japanese divers who earn more than 600 points in this competition would be given the right to represent at the Olympics. Because of the JASF launching such a plan, the number of people who wished to participate had drastically increased, and thanks to the qualifiers being in the morning, there was an unusually large number of spectators. But as the athletes were eliminated by the qualifiers, the buzz in the stands also faded. Still remaining in the completely deserted seats were the people who were concerned with the twelve advancing into the finals.

In the midst of the different DCs and families forming their own little clusters, there was one diver who got the attention of the diving-concerned parties while staying still in a corner of the upper seats, away from the MDC group.

It was Youichi.

Despite his plain outfit of black hoodie and khakis, Youichi at times had attention attracted more to himself than to the athletes on the platform. That was understandable, as he was someone in the middle of a maelstrom who had come to calmly spectate.

Wherever it leaked from, the story that Youichi had directly appealed to Chairman Maebara had already reached every corner of the diving world. That Fujitani Youichi had returned the unofficial representative nominations to a blank slate by himself—an overwhelming number of people had criticized it as an arrogant, foolish act. Or coldly scorned it. Not to mention, there was something extraordinary about the resentment of everyone involved with the MDC, who had lost their guarantee of continued club operation thanks to Youichi. His clubmates and guardians privately and openly vented their disappointment in him, who had been a star until recently. The President of Mizuki promptly announced the withholding of his commercial appearance. His father Keisuke, since he learned of Youichi’s reckless action, did not try to make eye contact with him if he wasn’t only going to say a single word—.

In the midst of those intense criticism, that were more than he had expected, Youichi had never once explained himself. Even if he did do it, he himself had no reasons to make everyone accept it. He only wanted to go to the path that he himself accepted, and if the compensation for that was being talked about being his back as an “idiot” and “weirdo” and “egoist”, then he was willing to resign himself to it.

Although, he wasn’t completely isolated. People such as Yoriko and Kayoko, the officials who were critical of the JASF’s way of doing things from the start, and the divers who had a chance to go to the Olympics thanks to this unexpected result, defended and supported Youichi from different points of view.

On this day of destiny, Shibuki materialized on the stands right before the start of the finals, and sat down with a thump next to Youichi. He was, once again, one of those few allies of his.

“How were the qualifiers?”

Shibuki asked Youichi as he yawned. He pushed his bed hair against the back of his seat. He had probably been sleeping until noon.

“The one who passed to the top was the seventy-two-year-old old man, Yamanouchi Tatsuo, from Saitama.” Youichi answered.

“What?” The look in Shibuki’s eyes changed. “That’s…no way. Impossible.”

“It is, since he was in the over-70 category of the Underwater Walking Championships.”

Shibuki scowled at him. “I’m talking about diving, of course.”

“If you cared about it, get up earlier and come watch it. It was pretty impressive. Everyone’s been going all out since the qualifiers.”

“So, who went to the top?”

“Of course Teramoto-san. Reiji got eliminated in eighteenth place, and Tomo advanced to the finals in sixth place. Plus, among the nine Japanese people left in the finals, Tomo’s fourth. He’s not practicing that desperately just for show.”

“There’s nine Japanese people left in the finals…?” Shibuki repeated in a sober voice. “Two of those people who get more than 600 points will get to hug the koalas.”

“No, except for Teramoto-san who has been settled upon for Sydney, there’s just one person left. Teramoto-san has immediately earned 600 points in yesterday’s springboard competition, so he’s already clear. He really is incredible.”

“One person left…”

Both of them turned their humbled gazes towards the diving tower.

The concrete dragon, backed by a window that looked out at the greenery, was coloured by the faint afternoon sunlight and the light from the ceiling, waiting for its challengers. The twelve athletes who passed the qualifiers stood in a line at the bottom of the steps in order of descending rank, doing light jumps and revolving their arms as they prepared for the start of the finals. It’s said that observers could understand the condition of an athlete just by watching those movements, but Tomoki’s movements were natural and without strain, making one feel an unprecedented stability.

“Did you talk to Sakai?”

“Oh, just a little after the qualifiers. I was thinking of telling him that I came to watch out for him if he was going to do a flat performance, but when I saw him looking so happy from passing with a sixth place, I became too mean. So I said something completely different like, ‘I’m never going to forgive you if you get more than 600 points.’”

“You’re pretty childish too,” Shibuki placed his thick palm on Youichi’s shoulder. “But, I’m finding that complicated personality of yours more and more interesting. You’re usually smart, but at the most crucial moment, you also managed to do the most foolish thing in the world.”

“You’re also foolish enough like that. You’re not sane at all to withdraw at the very last moment from the competition that would have let you go to Sydney. The title of the world’s biggest fool is perfect for you.”

“No, I was…told by the doctor to rest my back for a while longer. I’m already using small amounts of energy to do the techniques I’m doing now.”

“Those new dives? I heard that you’re doing secret special training with Asaki Kayoko, but what on earth are you guys doing?”

“I’m not telling. Or rather, if I have to say something, they’re techniques like the end of an impact match.” (1)

“What the hell is that?”

“See it with your own eyes next month.”

“But, if a Japanese person other than Teramoto-san gets more than 600 points in the competition, there won’t be a next one.”

“At that time, let’s dive together into the sea, even. I’ve told you before, but I returned in order to dive once more with you guys. For that, the stage can be anywhere.”

To the cheerfully smiling Shibuki, Youichi was now able to return an open smile.

“The sea? That’s not bad. But that’s talk for when I return from Sydney.”

Right then, a solemn voice announced the beginning of the finals.

_______________________________________________________________

Was the harsh condition of 600 points a stroke of good fortune? The Olympic right to represent was granted at the finals, where a barrage of performances overflowing with vigour followed one after the other, becoming a high-level battle that was rarely seen. Nonetheless, 600 points was a post too far for divers.

As Chairman Maebara said, 600 points was not a superficial score. Even in the three-year period between 1996 to 1998, there were only three divers who earned over 600 points throughout all of the domestic competitions. Except for Teramoto, two of them had already retired.

Incidentally, during those three years, the average score for the winners of boys’ high diving at the Middle School Selections was only 265 points. Will Tomoki, who had never advanced to Nationals from the Middle School Selections, be introduced to the overwhelming gap between him and Teramoto Kenichirou, who boasted a superhuman record of 670 points as his highest core?

However, Tomoki was shortening that gap at a terrifying speed under Kayoko’s coaching. Youichi was always conscious of the existence that was steadily approaching him from behind, and as he watched the competition, he held the fear that maybe Tomoki wasn’t chasing after him, but Teramoto. The Tomoki of this day was so bright, that each of his performances shining with an unprecedented, sharp power.

Meanwhile, though the Chinese divers that Coach Sun led were still rookies in their home country, they knew all about “showy performances.” Their inherent flexibility, sense of speed, and level of perfection of techniques—all the Japanese divers were relieved that they weren’t competing against them for the Olympic representation right. It was probably because of their obsession of “I want to win everything” did not compare to that of the Japanese that the Chinese influence made little progress into the finals.

The scores of the top six at the end of the first half (restricted-choice dives) were as follows:

1 Teramoto Kenichirou—232.40

2 Dai Yi-Chen—217.51

3 Oomiya Izumu—211.58

4 Sakai Tomoki—210.22

5 Huang Liang—181.37

6 Pinky Yamada—179.08

At this competition, where university, high school, and adult divers from all over the country, as well as the Chinese divers, exhausted their hardest efforts, Tomoki had somehow emerged at fourth place.

_______________________________________________________________

“Well, this…might be kind of dangerous.”

“It is. This isn’t a joke at all.”

During the twenty-minute rest time, Youichi and Shibuki were filled with a trepidation as they waited for the second half in the stands, a sorrow floating behind their backs like travellers who missed getting on a ship that only came once in four years.

They never thought that Tomoki would have made such strenuous efforts up to this point. If there was a possibility of someone else other than Teramoto getting more than 600 points, right now, it would probably be the third-place Oomiya of the Nippon Sport Science University. However, given the situation, they couldn’t help but admit that that estimate was too optimistic.

“The problem is the degree of difficulty.” Youichi calmly analyzed. “Tomo has 210 points right now, so he’ll need to take 390 points for the free-choice dives in order to surpass 600 points. Meaning, he’ll need an average of 65 points for each performance…damn! Even I never did that. What’s more, since he doesn’t have techniques with such high difficulty rates, if he is to get an average of 65 points, he’ll need to perform all six entries perfectly.”

“Is he going to do the 4½?”

“No,” Youichi whispered in response to Shibuki’s suddenly low voice. “Asaki Kayoko stopped him. She told him that it was too reckless to do a technique that he still hadn’t succeeded at even once at a competition. It’s a wise decision.”

“Especially with this development.”

They looked at each other, then sighed deeply at the same time.

“If Sakai ends up going to Sydney, would we be able to see him off with a smile?”

“Impossible. I’m going to secretly send back the moth orchids that I got from Tomo with express delivery. They’re a bit withered.”

Though he murmured that with faraway eyes, in truth, Youichi still couldn’t believe in Tomoki’s victory. He would never be able to do all six free-choice dives perfectly, he made light of him somewhere within.

Even Teramoto failed once or twice doing competitions. However, because Teramoto’s dives had dizzyingly high degrees of difficulty, he was able to easily surpass 600 points. Tomoki could not tolerate small mistakes, much less failures.

An average of 65 points. Right now, that’s still too far away—.

When the main pool erupted with cheers for the winning team of the “Backwards Walking Relay,” Youichi continued to stubbornly think that.

_______________________________________________________________

However, victory or defeat cannot be known.

Contrary to Youichi’s prediction, Tomoki had somehow managed to complete three rounds of the second half’s free-choice dives perfectly without making a single mistake.

His average score was 61.4 points.

Although he stopped short of 65 points, this made everyone doubt their own eyes.

On the contrary, the performances of the veteran Oomiya had become more passive as he entered the second half, a painful mistake in somersault after the third round causing him to descend in rank. With that, Tomoki finally climbed up to second-place among the Japanese divers.

First place was of course Teramoto, and his victory will have already been decided once the last three rounds were over, but Japan’s reigning champion still continued to dive to the end with his full power. It was the usual for him to force a battle with himself in domestic competitions with no worthy rivals. Nobody could be motivated without fighting spirit, aspirations, or anything to drive themselves on with. That loneliness, that irritation, and that heavy pressure—it was as though his diving was sending all of those things flying, and there was no reason for spectators to not be moved by it.

Whether or not the champion’s vigour inspired him, Tomoki’s performances became more and more tinged with an intensity that approached ghastliness as he advanced into the competition, and he finally registered a high score of 66.23 points for his fourth entry.

There were two more entries left.

At this stage, Tomoki had 460.65 points.

139.35 points more until the desired 600 points.

Calculating the degrees of difficulty from the last two rounds, Tomoki would only be bound for Sydney if five judges (among the seven, the highest and lowest scores are excluded) gave more than 9 points.

Five of the judges giving 9 or more points. Was such a thing possible or impossible? Nobody could have predicted this, and the stands of the diving pool were covered with a suffocating feeling of tension.

Youichi was also very tense, and as he was desperately suppressing his body that was going to lash out if he lost focus, he never moved his eyes away from Tomoki, who had transformed into something else.

On the contrary, he might had become an enemy.

Perhaps because he was too tense, when it was finally the crucial fifth round, he had to leave his seat.

He couldn’t hold in the urge to go to the washroom any longer.

_______________________________________________________________

He quickly slipped through the exit, and ran to the washroom outside the venue. He suppressed his impetuous feelings and released what he had been holding in. Even at that moment, Youichi’s mind was still in the venue.

There’s no way he can get it. Even if Tomoki hid an unpredictable and explosive hidden power, there’s no way he can get an average of 69 points…

As he recited those spell-like words in his heart, the shadow of a person slowly walked towards him from behind, lining up shoulder to shoulder next to Youichi. Despite the fact that the washroom was virtually empty, it was as though they expressly aimed to stand right next to him.

Déjà vu. It seemed like something like this happened somewhere before…

Youichi looked towards them in surprise, and sure enough, there was Chairman Maebara, with a smile in his eyes that showed that he was probably up to something, doing his business as vigorously as ever.

“I didn’t expect you to come.”

A strange second meeting due to a strange destiny.

Although it was expected that Chairman Maebara would only show up at an important competition that wagered the Olympic right of representation, he never thought that they’d meet again in this sort of place.

“The home country of the four people invited this time has a fable called “The Snipe and the Clam” (2). While someone is disputing with someone else, an unrelated third party gets all of the benefits. As expected, people on the continent say good things. I just wanted to offer these words to you. How did it ever happen that the right of representation that you’ve thrown away, is now going to be stolen away by your junior?” (3)

Youichi returned an undaunted, forced smile, as he always did when dealing with provocations.

“I have mixed feelings, of course. But, if this is how things are going, then I hope to do my best until the end. If Tomo gets the representation right, then I’ll grow up and accept my defeat, and then cheer him on like a good sport.”

“I see. How sportsmanlike. But, are you serious?”

“Of course it’s a joke.”

“Indeed,” Chairman Maebara nodded, looking convinced. “But, this might not end with a joke.”

“Huh?”

“Sakai Tomoki. That child is frightening.”

Leaving with those words in a low voice, he left briskly through the exit.

Youichi, who he had already finished his business with, chased after him. He wanted to use this opportunity to clarify something.

“Um, I missed the chance to ask about this before, but…well, now I feel like I don’t care about it anymore, but is there some sort of link between my unofficial Olympic nomination and the discussions of the commercial from Mizuki?”

“Link?”

“Mizuki was looking for a star to sell sports drinks. The JASF was looking for a star to spread diving into the world. So the idea that such motives had an effect on the Olympic selections is…”

“Impossible.” Chairman Maebara interrupted him before he could finish, looking annoyed. “The only stars for us, Fujitani-kun, are medalists.”

Abruptly throwing that over his shoulder, he started walking again. There was only an obsession with medals in that grey head. Everything else may have been like watermelon seeds to him. While thinking about the possibility that the JASF and Mizuki were connected, unbeknownst to Chairman Maebara, Youichi no longer tried to dig up those watermelon seeds any longer.

“Please wait. There’s one more thing…”

Instead, he voiced his second question.

“This is from more than twenty years ago, but sir, you wrote a booklet titled ‘Diving Manual,’ right? It’s a really detailed book, and it can be used as a reference even now. But, even though you live in the world of swimming, why would you write a book about diving?”

“There were two reasons. One, because my wife, who died young, was a diver. Even though she was an average diver who always lost in the qualifiers, even when she retired she would only talk about diving. And it might be because I am a sentimental man, I did for my wife something that she couldn’t do during her lifetime.”

Chairman Maebara cleared his throat, to force out the warmth that coiled around his voice somewhere.

“I wrote that book a long time after my wife passed away, but in truth, at that time there was a girl who liked divers. Her unyielding strength, and yet frightened appearance when she was on the platform was very similar to my wife. Well, to cut a long story short, I wanted to do something for that girl.”

Youichi was bewildered by that unexpected answer.

“Both of those reasons are related to women, huh.”

“Yes, they are. If you lived a little more, you’ll understand.”

He smiled meaningfully. “That’s all, I suppose?” Chairman Maebara said as he prepared to take his leave this time.

“Just one last thing.” Youichi raised a third question that had come into his mind just now.

“Have you ever touched that girl’s butt?”

Chairman Maebara, about to head back to the venue, stopped his foot in midair. The uncertain balance had been destroyed, and he turned around towards Youichi while staggering.

A mysterious smile appeared on his face.

“I wonder which one are you more interested in: my answer or the outcome of the finals?”

Youichi, taken aback, came back to his senses.

That’s right, right now it’s the climax of the finals…Tomoki’s fifth round!

It wasn’t that he had no curiosity about the last answer. However, Youichi couldn’t stop running to the venue. He was annoyed with himself for getting absorbed in talking when it was such an important time. What was happening to Tomoki in the competition?

When Youichi barged into the venue, the stands were enveloped in a strange silence. He knew by looking at the pool that it wasn’t the quiet before the storm, but after.

Tomoki was in the deep-blue pool, having just finished his fifth round.

Youichi controlled his breathing, then cautiously turned towards the electric scoreboard.

9 points.

10 points.

9.5 points.

10 points.

9 points.

8.5 points.

10 points.

Total, 71.25 points.

Overall score, 531.9 points.

Youichi reeled at the three perfect scores.

Finally, Tomoki approached the point where he had 68.1 points left until the destined 600 points.

_______________________________________________________________

During the competition’s first round, the golden sun was shining behind the platform, but now it was tending towards the west, pouring a smoky orange from the side windows. Popularity had died out in the main pool, where the competition had already ended, and spectators from the stands left one by one.

The venue suddenly fell completely silent. (4)

Now, a lone boy was trying to entrust his fate to only 1.4 seconds.

The last entry.

The event was the forward 3½ somersault in tuck position.

When Tomoki slowly appeared on the ten-meter to contend, Youichi saw Kayoko tightly clasp her hands together in the stands. It was she who had taught the 3½ to that carefreely innocent boy, and she who persistently and resiliently polished him. It could be said that Tomoki took his first big step to a great breakthrough with that technique. Will he be able to soar to Sydney with that technique—?

Next to Kayoko, there was Keisuke’s back, not even making the slightest movement. Next to him, Ooshima was fidgeting restlessly. Sachiya was there. Ryou had came too. Reiji, who lost in the qualifiers, was there. Everyone, including Shibuki, who was holding his breath, were watching the ten-meter platform with intense concentration.

Just as his mouth became dry just by being in the stands, what was Tomoki thinking in this crucial moment, as he stood alone on the platform?

A nauseous tension.

A crushing pressure.

A fear of failure that would never leave, even for a moment.

As Youichi painfully understood those feelings, he couldn’t help wishing that he wanted him to do his best.

He wanted him to dive his best, and fail on top of that.

Please briskly scatter everywhere!

Youichi prayed with all his power, as a short whistle sounded, and Tomoki stepped forward.

His body had become a spring, as he lightly danced high into the air. A perfect takeoff. The somersaults that came after were filled with power and speed, and his body traced a beautiful arc, like a compass, as he rotated. A satisfying 3½ without an inch of deviation. At this point, everyone was convinced that Tomoki was going to Sydney.

This was probably when Youichi, Kayoko and Keisuke saw what Tomoki was trying to do.

Tomoki had done a perfect 3½, then right before his entry, he suddenly made a strange movement at the water’s edge. As if rejecting the water, he stretched out, and sank into the water as though a thread was snapped behind his back.

A violent splash sprang up.

That pillar of water has blocked Tomoki’s path to Sydney.

For a moment, everyone was unaware of what happened.

Even though the pool was five-meters deep, the waters were choppy, as though they had swallowed a strange, unexpected object.

The seven judges were the first to return to themselves, driven by their responsibility to score. They tilted their heads, or knitted their eyebrows, as they extended their fingers to the keyboard in front of them.

5.5 points.

5 points.

6 points.

4 points.

4 points.

4.5 points.

5 points.

Total, 38.88 points.

Overall score, 570.78 points—.

A small shriek came from somewhere. And then the venue became filled with sound again.

Even when the next diver appeared on the platform, no one attempted to look in his direction.

The one who accepted this result more calmly than anyone else was perhaps the person who received it himself. Tomoki, getting out of the pool, glanced at the scoreboard, and walked briskly towards the Jacuzzi bath with a face that said, “that’s the way it is.” His expression didn’t even change, and his shoulders didn’t give off any hint of dejection.

Only when he saw that indifferent stride, did Shibuki, partly absentminded, suddenly spoke from next to Youichi.

“It couldn’t be…was he attempting the 4½!?”

Youichi sighed in place of a response.

Among all of the sighs that he sighed countless numbers of times during the competition, this one was the longest and deepest.

“There’s one more fool, huh.”

_______________________________________________________________

The heated battle between the twelve divers brilliantly ended with Teramoto Kenichirou’s 688.41 points, astoundingly beating his own personal best. Tomoki, who messed up his challenge for 600 points, would be lumped together as one of the eleven that lost, destined to be promptly consigned to oblivion in people’s memories. The spectators would not know the thoughts that he kept to himself during his final entry. They would only assess and praise the results of the winner. That was the nature of competitions, of victories and defeats.

After the competition, Youichi and Shibuki finally found Tomoki, who had disappeared before they knew it, nearby in an area wrapped in a twilight that was a darker blue than the water.

Tomoki was at the edges of the deserted Yokoyama Park, sitting by himself on a fence that separated the trees and the path. His exhausted appearance resembled a fish that had been taken out of water, as he looked at his feet with eyes that seemed to yearn for the water.

“Congrats,” Youichi spoke without hesitation, as he walked briskly towards him. “After consulting with Okitsu, we have decided that the champion for the title of world’s biggest fool is you, Sakai Tomoki-kun.”

Tomoki absentmindedly raised his head, slowly turning his gaze towards the two of them.

“Thank you. But, is that an honourable thing?”

“It’s not, you fool. If you did a faultless 3½ you would have gotten 600 points, but at the last moment you did that recklessly honourable and stupid thing. Where’s the guy that drove off from himself the representation right that was so hard to get?”

“Where’s the guy…” Shibuki interjected from the side. “The guy who’s going to return it to himself is right here.”

Youichi glared at Shibuki, then faced Tomoki again.

“Okay? If in the unlikely event that you succeeded at the 4½, you’ll get 0 points for breaking the rules, since you dived a technique that was different from the event that you stated beforehand. You were going to lose either way. You are crazy. Even if they circled the earth ten times, they wouldn’t be able to find another fool like you.”

He spoke mercilessly, but Tomoki did not refute any of it, and stared straight back at him.

The cold wind of November blew over them as they locked eyes with each other.

Eventually, as though he was outlasted, Youichi’s voice dropped.

“But, you knew that, and you were going to dive that from the beginning.”

“…”

“Though you pretended to give it up in front of Asaki Kayoko, you were actually going to dive the 4½ today from the start.”

“Youichi-kun, you…” Tomoki’s lips, paled from fatigue and the cold, were spasming. “Because you took back the Olympics…because you did something for us once again, I wanted to take back something with my own hands as well today.”

“…”

“Even though the competition was in vain, I properly took it back.”

A smile spread across Tomoki’s pale face. Youichi bit the back of his mouth to keep from laughing.

“If that’s the case, then you don’t have to feel dejected. Show everyone what you took back. Tell everyone that I tried to do something amazing.”

“I’m not dejected. I’m not. I was repeating it in my head so I wouldn’t forget it.”

“What is it?”

“The 4½…today, I feel like I finally grasped it.”

Tomoki’s whole body trembled, and he hugged himself like he was holding back something that was getting worked up.

“Like, maybe I can do it. Today, I thought for the first time that I can dive it. That feeling…I felt it for the very first time today. That’s why I don’t want to forget it, so I’m looping it over and over again because I want it to permeate into my brain, and then I want to succeed at it next time…”

Youichi and Shibuki looked at each other, startled, at the sudden heat in Tomoki’s voice.

The match was not over.

Or rather, this was just the beginning.

The stage of the decisive battle was next month. From now on, Tomoki will evolve day by day, moment by moment, continuing to threaten the two of them with his bottomless power.

“At the qualifying trials next month, I’ll definitely succeed at the 4½.”

Within Tomoki’s powerful declaration dwelled a confidence that he never had before.

“I’ll rotate more than anyone, and then next time, I’ll earn more than 600 points…and then, I’m going to Sydney.”

The strong wind started again, messing up Tomoki’s hair, which was still wet.

The trees behind him stirred as well, disturbing the deepening darkness.

When the wind ceased, Youichi’s lips regained their usual daring smile.

“You aren’t going to Sydney,” he said. “I’ll be blocking you.”

“We’ll be blocking you.” Shibuki corrected from the side.

The three of them, staring at each other, burst into joyful laughter.

They silently confirmed their respective resolutions, and then because it was cold, returned to the venue.

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Notes:

1. Not sure what he’s saying here (おしまいのインパクト勝負)

2. A Chinese folktale about a snipe and a clam that were too busy fighting each other, and before they knew it, they both got caught by a fisherman.

3. Chairman Maebara uses “onore,” which is a rude way to refer to another person, so you know sh*t is going down.

4. Apparently, there’s a Japanese sound effect for “empty,” so originally, this line was like “Suddenly the venue sounded with emptiness.”